


portrait on a wall

by fakedolls



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Bottom Harry, Cheating, F/M, Gay Realationship, Gay Sex, Heterosexual Sex, M/M, Marriage, Narry - Freeform, Nudity, Original Character(s), Painting, Top Niall, harry's younger, i only mentioned nick once so i didn't tag him, niall's older, um that's it i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2014-08-18
Packaged: 2018-02-13 17:32:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2159145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fakedolls/pseuds/fakedolls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall's got the perfect life; A lovin g fiancee, a house, a job, everything he ever needed. But what happens when he meets a provocative nineteen year old and recruits him to model in nude for a project he makes for his art class.</p>
            </blockquote>





	portrait on a wall

**Author's Note:**

> i'd like to reccomend you listening to Missing You by John Waite while you reach the ending, it really brings the vibe of it. 
> 
> recently i have a fetish for 'vintage' fics, so here you go. 
> 
> any errors are mine, english isn't my native language.

It's happening in February 1936. Niall was sitting in a café down the road, sketching doddles on a sheet. His coffee cup resting right beside his occupied left hand; brown liquid still burning in between the ceramic walls of the cup and steam rising up to meet his nose, aroma of hale taking over his scenes.  
  
He's drawing a curvy line that will do the woman's waist. Her hair's long and reaching down her chest; hair bits covering her breasts. She's naked. Niall reckons it as the beauty of the thing. There's nothing she could hide herself with, all she displays his herself and her own. No make-up, no clothes, just herself.  
  
It has been a week since he proposed Mia. He planned doing that for a while now. The only push he needed was the approval of her father, which he gave delightfully. After all, they are already three years together. Niall's got a job. May not be the most standard one, but he could do with money and gain some more on his own paintings and private tutors. Mia, however, had no job. The Great Depression is the one to blame. They've got a lovely house though, of four rooms. When it's the right time one of them will become to a nursery.  
  
When he observed at his crowded setting his eyes caught a table surrounded by teens. There were five of them; two girls and three boys. But the one in the middle giggling before he blows on the candles that lined up on his chocolate cake entrapped his attention.  
  
He got undulant nut brown long curls. Some of the wavy strands obtruding on his forehead. His eye-color was disguised by his wrinkled eyelids. He owned those plump distracting lips that caught Niall off guard. His jaw was sharp and nose big but not that much to be ungraceful on the young lad's façade. He looked beaming; as if the sun landed right upon his face. Niall divined it was his birthday since all the singing and wishes he overheard. The cake was a good hint as well.  
  
The unnamed lad rose off from his seat, trying to get out of the sandwich his friends made around him, thanking them with a kiss on each cheek and living them to eat the cake themselves as he goes back behind the counter. So he works here, too.  
  
As soon as he rifted his intense gaze from the boy and brought his cup back to his lips and chugged the liquid down his throat, he realized it was already lukewarm and he probably stared a little longer than he had intended to.  
  
There was something intriguing about him. About how joyful he looked with his friends one moment before his manager hollered at him from the kitchen and announced his little break was over. Niall tucked his doddle inside his suitcase and strode to the counter to pay his bill. He fiddled in the back pocket of his trousers, fishing for his wallets. When he finds his will he tugs out the amount of pounds that was needed and tosses the wad on the counter. When he looks up the lad he watched earlier stood in front of him, grabbing the money and adding it to the iron box.  
  
"Happy birthday," he voiced as he thrust the wallet back inside his trousers, watching carefully how the boy lifted his head, how the green in his eyes seemed so vivid. Like tree's leaves on a springtime.  
  
The younger smiles and says in return a "Thank you," as his eyes trail on Niall up and down. Niall nods.  
  
"No problem," he chuckles, lifting his hand as if he wants to emphasize his point.  
  
"Your name," the curly inquires, pen clenched in between his fingers; cashbook already open.  
  
Niall was too engulfed in his own world to answer right away. So as he shakes off he only stares at the stranger. The boy in front of him patiently examining him and waiting. "Excuse me?" he asks, running a hand on his face. He might be too tired. He spent all last night on trying to draw the exact thing he formed in his head and gained sleep of merely three hours.  
  
"I need your name, to write it down." He says, tipping his head down towards the open notebook lying on the counter.  
  
"Oh, I'm Niall. Niall Horan."  
  
He hums and writes down Niall's name neatly on the compressed-with-too-many-words paper. "And how much you gave me?"  
  
"It was a cup of black coffee, so I reckon it was four."  
  
"Four… pounds…" Harry mutters silently to himself under his breath while he writes the words onto the paper. He looks at the clock to write down the hour as well. Niall watches how he licks his lips and straightens up.  
  
He smiles politely at Niall. "Thank you." He says before Niall nods in acknowledgment and turns on his heel. Before he steps outside an idea sprung up his head and he twirled back and inside of the shop again, reaching the counter and panting slightly.  
  
"Forgot something?" the boy chirps when he spots Niall once again.  
  
"No, um, here," Niall stutters as he tugs out his card and places it on the counter. "That's my… my card. I'm a painter, teaching an art program. I thought it'll be nice if you'd give me a ring, sometime, maybe?"  
  
Niall's words are coming out rushed and messy. Harry picks the card and observes it, brows knitted together in confusion. "What do you mean?" he lifts his eyes to meet Niall's briefly before he goes back to explore the card in his hand.  
  
"It's a project I'm working on. Call me if you're interested, I will interpret you all about it."  
  
Before the boy can take another breath Niall is already by the door as he hears someone shouts in his direction. "My name's Harry, by the way,"  
  
Niall turns around and nods at him, exiting the shop, making his way back home.  
  
  
******  
  
Mia is sitting on the rocking chair when Niall enters into the house. She's got her book in front of her, legs crossed and her floral dress covering her thighs. Her blond hair was tied in a perfect hairdo; she braided her front locks and clasped it to the side, tied with the rest of her hair into a bun. Her eyes follow Niall, who looked quite distressed. He strolled across the room and tossed his suitcase on the sofa, reaching over his fiancée and pecking her lips after she whispered him hi. Before he can retreat and go over to grab a glass of cold water and disappear into his painting room, which serves him also as his office, Mia wraps her long clean leg around his waist and beginning to unfasten his trousers.  
  
"Mia, love, not now." He grumbles into her lips but in contradiction to his words, hooks his palm around her shin, thumb stroking the smooth skin there.  
  
"Don't you ever dare to turn an aroused woman down ever again, Niall," she moans playfully and Niall lifts her easily up his body as he guides them both upstairs. Mia always gets what she wants.  
  
As they both land on their bed; Niall on top of Mia and panting, he crawls down and slowly peels her already wet knickers down her legs. "You've been planning this all the time I was gone?" he growls against her, tongue sweeping over her briefly, only to taunt her.  
  
"And what if I did, then?" she moans out, breathless as now his thumb working on her clit.  
  
"Then, well, I'd have to fuck you since you took the effort and planned it all in your bloody dirty mind, aye?"  
  
After he made her come from just his tongue and thumb and shagged her and made her come again, before they could have comprehend everything all over again, a ring sounds from Niall's office and he rushes to pull on his boxers back on, running as quick as he can without stumbling.  
  
He picks up the phone when he enters the room, not even sitting on his chair. On the other line there's a lingering silence before he says, "Hello?"  
  
"Hello?" A somewhat familiar voice speaks, "Is someone's there?"  
  
It takes him a moment to realize who is calling and until it dawns on him the voice keeps muttering in the other line.  
  
"Yeah, yeah." he mutters as he sits on his disheveled table, crossing his unoccupied hand across his bare chest.  
  
"Niall," the voice says again, a bit confused.  
  
"Yes, it's me. Is that… Harry?" he trails off until he can recall the lad's name from the café.  
  
"Yeah, um, you told me to call you, about this project you're working on?"   
  
"Indeed, yeah, made up your mind?"  
  
"I wanna listen to what you have to tell me about it, what is it exactly?"  
  
"Of course. Uh, it's a portrait project. I'm in need for a person, a model to be exact. It's something for my class," he gulps before he elaborates. "You need to be naked."  
  
There's a sudden eerie silence. "Oh,"  
  
"Yeah, I understand if you don't wanna do that, I'll go find someone el-"  
  
Before he can finish his sentence Harry interrupts. "I'll do it." He says, as if his life depended on it.  
  
"Excuse me?" Niall thinks he didn't hear right.  
  
"I said I'll do it. Is there any payment?" wonders Harry.  
  
"We can sort something out,"  
  
"Good, then."  
  
Niall tells him the address and time before he says goodbye and hangs up the phone, leaning back on his chair.

  
******  
  
Niall sits on the wooden chair, sketching yet another doddle of a woman on his notebook while his students concentrate on their own work of today's class.  
  
"Mr. Horan?" a thick accent calls his name. He lifts his gaze from the sheet to search the source of the voice. When his eyes land on a raven-haired lad he fixates his attention on him.  
  
"Yes Zayn?"  
  
"Can you come have a look?"  
  
Niall stands up, padding his way towards the lad that's waiting for him. He takes a look at his inked canvas. The background was black and deep blue with white craws sitting on a massive naked black tree as the moon's shining upon them. Zayn was a very talented lad, although he always smelled from cigarettes and sweat mixed up with lavender. Niall knew from the outside, his all shady look was just a cover to his softness from the inside. It came out in his works too. He seemed like a lonely wolf trudging in the dark woods looking after a prey, but the truth was all he was looking for was his pack of wolves; was looking for his family.  
  
Niall tucked his hands in his trousers' pockets as he observed Zayn's canvas. He examines it a little bit more before he turns to Zayn and pats his back twice. "I think you know it's good, and all you've been searching for was a compliment. Eh?"  
  
Zayn ducks his head down, playing with his painting brush as he blushes. Niall ruffles his hair and goes back to sit behind the rickety wooden table he calls his desk.  
  
The time passes by and Niall looks at the clock. Time's already six in the evening and before he dismisses the students he tells them the news.  
  
"I didn't want to tell you this before everything was set, but next week we're gonna have a model here that you'd be required to draw naked."  
  
"Is it gonna be a lass?" One redhead bloke from the back shouts.  
  
"Is it gonna be a man?" another blond girl interrupts, voice sounds fervent.  
  
Niall chuckles, clasping his hands together before he gestures towards the blond girl, "It is going to be a bloke, ladies," he's hurried to continue and reassure the lads before they start a commotion in the room. "And my boys, don't you worry I will fix you something later on, right? Good."  
  
The ladies are coming out of the room, whispering and squeaking as the lads are grumbling. Zayn even passed by his desk to make sure he is going to bring a bird as well. His glare was dreading but it only made Niall more amused than before.  
  
He told Harry to arrive around seven-thirty, so it means he had an hour and a half to set the studio up and perhaps have a drink from the gin bottle he keeps hidden in one of the cabinets after.  
  
He owns this studio for four years. Since he was twenty-one and could afford it. He always was drawn into the art world. Even as a kid. He used to take his father's dip-pens and doddle on the house's walls. His mother was slapping his wrist and sitting him in the corner as punishment for his 'bad behavior'. He remembers that clearly.  
  
They wanted him to be a doctor, wanted him to discover a medicine for any possible flu and to every deadly disease. He only laughed at their face. His parents are the notorious wealthy people that moved from Ireland to live a 'better life' in London. They befriended Mia's parents and that's how they met, when they were eighteen. Only three years ago they made it official. Both of their parents were more than delighted. Although her parents thought he was going to a med school, since that's all his mother rambled about with them all these years. It was a lie. And when his parents finally accepted the fact that he isn't to be doctor soon, Mia's did also. It was okay by them as long as he loves their daughter and for that he was grateful.  
  
He shoved the easels to the side and brought his own from the dusty storage room he keeps all the colors and tools in. He dragged the ratty blue sofa from its place against the wall to the center of the large studio, sweat increasing on his forehead. Once he's done and the chair is behind the easel, his colors are all ready and the setting he planned on is settled, he reach for the large cabinet at the corner of the room and extricating the bottle out, drinking from it as a knock sounds from the door. He hastily shuts the lid and puts it back inside the cabinet as cautiously as he could, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and buttoning back the few buttons of his blouse he loosened before due to the heat he felt. When he opens the door Harry's standing there with his hands inside his pockets. Wind blows his wild hair and he's got no coat on, only a bag hanging around his torso.  
  
Niall lets him in after he greeted him, shutting the door behind before any cold invades in. It looks like it's about to rain and he didn't even realize how bad the weather really is today. It's bloody February and the lad's got no coat on.  
  
"How you came here?" Niall asks. Harry turns his head to look at Niall, who was still standing by the door.  
  
"Walked," he simply answered, even shrugging. Niall's eyes widened and he was thankful Harry was back to observe the room. "You live here?"  
  
"No," Niall was quick to retort. "No, I live with my fiancée."  
   
"Ah," Harry nods, putting his bag on the sofa.  
  
"Weren't you cold?"  
  
"Yeah, but I forgot my coat at home so it's never mind. Where is everyone?"  
  
"Today it's just me and you," Explains Niall, going behind his blank canvas and standing there, waiting for Harry to stop staring around.  
  
"May I ask why?"  
  
"It's an experiment. I draw you first before the student do."  
  
"What, like an audition?"  
  
"Sort of," Niall half concurs, "The only thing is that I'm going to use you anyway."  
  
Harry laughs and Niall smirks. "Shall I get naked?"  
  
"You brought a robe like I told you?" Niall questions as he's looking at Harry, waiting for his answer but he only nods. "Great, so, the bathrooms there," he points to his right.  
  
He made sure before he decided to buy the studio that he's got everything here if someday he's ever going to do an actual something with it, even living there.  
  
Harry points to the same direction as Niall. "There?" he makes sure.   

  
"Yeah,"  
  
Harry takes his bag and locks himself inside the bathroom.  
  
When he emerges out only a blue robe covers his body. Niall looks at his bare legs and how long and slender they seem. He raises his gaze up to see Harry himself, whose face fixated on Niall; who is just sitting there with his palm on his thigh. They watch each other intently before Niall breaks it and Harry sighs.  
  
"Ready?" Niall wonders as he is standing on his feet to grab his pack of cigarettes.  
  
He watches Harry nodding positively, rolling his sleeves further up his arms and unbuttoning again his blouse. He unfastens his belt and tosses it on the chair he's about to go back sitting on. He fiddles with his hands inside the pocket of the coat that's hanging on the wall with a scarf one of his students must have forgotten. And as he pulls out the packet he asks, "Mind if I smoke?"

He's already got a fag tucked in the seam of his mouth as he turns around, a matchbox in his hand. He pulls out one and rubs its brown head on the box on the coarse side of the box to make a friction and have a fire. When it's lit he brings it to the end of his cigarette and lights it up, shaking his hand when he's finished to turn off the fire.  
  
"My opinion doesn't really matter now, does it?" Harry chuckles, fingers fumbling with the robe's string.  
  
Niall laughs dryly. "No, not really,"  
  
He pulls the gin bottle again from its secret place, placing it next to the cartoon dotted with colors on the square table. Every time he draws something that's supposed to be serious he needs to be ready and calm. That's why the cigarette and alcohol.  
  
"It's just my fiancée. She isn't allowing cigarettes inside the house, even if it's in my own goddamn office." He says as he sits back on the chair, groaning slightly. His back's killing him and as soon as he gets home he will take a shower and slip into bed.

"Must be tough,"  
  
"It's okay."  
  
Harry slowly peels the robe off his body and Niall restrains himself from watching, a thing that makes him gander about at every corner of the studio but to look at the young boy in front of him.  "How old are you, Harry?" inquires Niall, voice coming out slightly trembling and uneasy.  
  
"Nineteen today,"  
  
"Oh right, I recall your mates at the café." Niall says. "Nineteen is a very interesting age. I remember meself at this time. Wasn't so long ago but still,"  
  
They fall into silence as Harry settles on the sofa and Niall smashes the cigarette in the ashtray.  
  
"How's your _fiancée?"_ suddenly Harry questions, his tone unabashed and perhaps even arrogant. Much like Niall was talking when he was this age. While growing up you realize some things you should have beforehand.  
  
"She's lovely," he replies in terseness.  
  
"So how to you want me to pause?" Harry comes again, pressing his palm on the solid cushion of the sofa and smoothing his hand over it as he speaks. Niall's watching him, not even realizing he had drowned into a minor trance.  
  
Harry was beautiful. There was no doubt in Niall's mind about that. With his rosy cheeks and big pink lips that looked as if it was a feather pillow. His pale, almost tanned skin and these long eyelashes that adorned his forest green eyes. His body was toned. He was tall, and lanky, and got them full longish brown curls that right after he sweeps them backwards they return back and cover his eyes.  
  
Niall coughed, winding uneasily on his spot. He ran his hand through his hair, fingers thumping on the canvass disgruntled, trying to think about something.  
  
"Sit," he eventually instructs. "Open your legs slightly, and put your right arm on the backrest."  
  
"Okay," mumbles Harry, doing as he was told.  
  
"Oh, yeah, and cover your… thing."  
  
"Thing?" that made Harry laugh.  
  
"Your dick, c'mon don't play games with me."  
  
When Niall's sure Harry's position is just how he wanted it to be he steps back and grabs the brush, deepening it in the color. When he observes at him again, something isn't right and he discards the brush on the table and strides his way quickly towards him, ruffling his hair a bit and rubbing his thumb on his cheek, cupping his chin and lifting his head up so his eyes will meet Niall's. "You're very beautiful, Harry,"  
  
His voice was small, as though he was telling it more to himself than Harry. His gaze was intense and lingering. He didn't know what was happening to him. Before Harry was saying anything, although he wasn't supposed to, Niall shook it out of him and went back behind the easel. Harry ducked his head down, gulping the lump that formed in his throat by the blondes' words. No one ever called him beautiful.  
  
"No none of that, look straight at me. Try not to flinch or anything."  
  
Harry nodded and Niall understood from that Harry got his words. With that, he began concentrating at his painting.  
  
It's been three hours. Three hours Harry sat there, trying not to move, perhaps even blink. He was cold, he had to wee and he was thirsty. But all of this was forgotten when he watched Niall. He was so focus at his deed. He managed to smoke about five cigarettes, including the one that's being held loosely between his lips while he sweeps the brush over the canvas. He sat, and stood, he moved constantly but it was intriguing to watch. Right now his eyes locked with Harry's when he caught him watching, a little, almost invisible smirk formed on his face. His hand movements stopped for a few moments as they both remained at staring at each other.  
  
There was something intense with that situation. Niall drew a few people before, men and women, but it never was like _that_.  
  
"So, that's what you're doing in your nineteenth birthday, modeling to an anonymous artist that's making a new project to his bloody art class?" Niall's chuckling, tearing his gaze off from Harry briefly to observe at his unfinished work, taking the cigarette out of his mouth, releasing fumes out to the room's air.  
  
Harry snorts silently, tilting his head downwards, a smile appearing on his face. "First off, _you_ told me to come here-"  
  
"You didn't have to," Niall claims, interrupting the rest of Harry's sentence, tone playful.  
  
"Yeah, well, but what can I do at home alone?"  
  
"What about your friends?" Niall says absently when he draws another line to the start of Harry's hair. It takes quite a lot of time to complete a portrait.  
  
"They've got their own problems." Harry sighs, causing Niall to frown in confusion.  
  
"What does that mean?" he asks, curious.  
  
"Nothing," Harry concludes and Niall gets the hint.  
  
"Okay."  
  
"So how much you're gonna pay me?" Harry questions as he's looking straight at Niall, who'd picked his head up from the painting to look at him.  
  
Niall shakes his head, smiling at how hasty Harry's voice sounded. As if he wanted to get rid of the question in his head already. "Fifty pounds for today and fifty for next week will do?" Niall says, tone unsure as he goes back briskly to fix a line with his smaller brush, but then staring back at Harry, who still was in the right position; nothing moves except his mouth and blown eyes.  
  
"Fifty?" Harry looks a bit startled at the amount Niall had just offered him. These days money isn't easy, and fifty pounds counts as a fortune where Harry lives.  
  
"Is that too much?" sniggers Niall, scratching his neck with his dirty, colored hand. The blue on his hand has not dried yet, leaving a string of it on his nape.  
  
"Yes, I mean, no? I don't know." Harry mumbles, not really knowing how to react. He thought he might pay him five pounds and that's it. He'll buy something with that. But fifty, it's nothing like five. "Are you rich or something?!"  
  
Niall laughs at Harry, "Not really, maybe. Well, my parents are,"  
  
"Must live in heaven, then."  
  
"Not necessarily," Niall breathes, biting his lips. "They were actually very tough on me when I was your age. Wanted me to be a doctor," the tone of his latter words comes out jeeringly as he rolls his eyes.  
  
"You could be," Harry suggested, shuffling a little at his spot.  
  
"Didn't want to," he adds, taking another look at Harry and groaning. "Please, just don't move."  
  
Another two hours went by and it was already late for both. Harry is half slumbering and Niall's hands lost any strength. He puts the brushes into the glass filled with water he used to clean the color off them, and tossed the cartoon whose surface was smeared with a mess of colors into the rubbish bin. He washed his hands and damp face, searching for a toilet paper to dry himself out. He pulled back on his coat, and when he turned around he saw Harry; lying on the sofa, fast asleep and mostly, nude.  
  
He plodded towards him, staring aimlessly around, looking for something to cover him up with. His bag was discarded next to the leg of the sofa, and when Niall tilted his head again he saw the robe that's lying there, on the cold floor. He crouches on his knees to retrieve the piece of fabric, shrouding Harry with it. When he doesn't flinch, Niall heaves a sigh. He reckons the young lad will stay the night at his studio.  
  
When he opens the studio's door he tucks his palms inside his coat's pockets and leans against the iron, taking one last glance at the sleeping boy before he exits to his car.  
  
He enters to the flat, and everything is dark and silence. Mia's probably upstairs. He gets into the room and she's the first sight he sees; tucked under the covers, wearing her transparent nightgown, her hair is loose and long on the pillow. He takes a shower and puts on his briefs, getting into bed beside her. When she feels him she snuggles into his chest, moaning contently and brushing her palm on his bare chest, never uttering a word. Niall just glares at the ceiling, attempting to erase the image of the curly lad from his head.  
                                                              
******  
  
In the morning they sit in the kitchen. The radio is on filling the space with music when Niall reads the paper, drinking from his tea whilst Mia's making an omelet and dancing to the beat. Her blond shiny hair she fixed earlier with some spray bounced as she moved; the margins of her white dress bouncing side to side along her hips. Niall smiles at her when she shoots him a grin, putting the omelet into his plate straight from the pan. She sits on the chair idly to his and grabs his hand in hers.  
  
"So I was thinking," she begins, voice chirping and fervent. "What about doing the wedding at the park? Everything green and vivid, loads of space?"  
  
Niall thinks for a few seconds.  
  
"I'd rather it to be simply in a church. It's going to be in June anyway, what if it rains?" he retorts tentatively, unlinking their hands and beginning to munch on his eggs.

"Didn't consider that," she mumbles and Niall gives her the 'I told you' look.  
  
"Church could be much more convenient as well, to everyone. I want something small and cosy. We can't invite lots of people, love." He elaborate, swallowing down the food leftovers he jabbed with his fork and shoved into his mouth.  
  
"I know that," she pouts. "I just want it to be pretty and unforgettable."  
  
Niall gives her a knowing half-smile. "It's going to be beautiful, and if people forget it it's their own bloody problem, aye?"  
  
He drags her onto his lap by her wrist and as she settles there she wraps her arms around his neck, tipping her head down and giving him a nimble peck on the lips.  
  
"I gotta go," he says hastily right after, swiftly lifting her up and off his lap, checking the time and pouring a glass of water, chugging it down before he pecks her on the cheek, gathering his coat and exiting out the door before she can ask where he's going.  
  
"Don't be late!" she calls out from the kitchen's window, hoping he heard her as he rapidly opened the vehicle's door and drove into the city.  
  
******  
  
Drizzle began to drop when he walked out of his car, stinging his nape and wetting his hair when he grapples with the keys in his hand. As he enters inside the studio he recognizes Harry; he only wears his briefs on as he's probing in the works Niall lined up against the wall.  
  
"Is it you, I mean, you drew it?" Harry voiced abruptly, curious, wanting to know, taking out a painting of a setting; it was a green knoll of lawn dorned by daisies, observing a village.  
  
Niall trudges forward, shrugging off his coat on the way and tossing it on the sofa, taking the canvas from Harry's hand to look at the painting. "No," he breathes out, "It's none of my style."

  
Harry nods. "Mm, it's really pretty though." He gazes Niall, examining his gnarled face; how stubble is growing on his chin, and the freckles, which dotted messily on his nose. His long eyelashes that now, from the side, hiding the staggering ocean blue of his eyes. And the remaining blond strands on top of his head that slightly collide with the brown below. Harry had never, in his entire life, have seen such a beautiful man.  
  
Harry's cheeks become crimson when Niall catches him staring. "I've got some talents in me class." Niall praises, raising his eyebrows as he thinks about it and insets the painting in the row again.  
  
Minutes later the curly slumps on the sofa, resting his hand on his abdomen as he ganders around the room "So what _is_ your style, Niall?"  
  
Harry's voice sounds provocative; taunting even. Niall couldn't know why. Maybe it's just the way he is. He only knows him for a day.  
  
"Mostly portraits, perhaps pictures of people I create in my head."  
  
"And they're all nude?" the younger pushes. "May you show me some?"  
  
Niall looked distraught, a bit panicked, perhaps. He ruffled his blond, short hair and bit his lips as Harry watched every move. He wore a short-sleeved buttons blouse, even though today was colder than yesterday. His arm muscles flexed when he pressed too much pressure on his neck with his big hand. Harry wasn't supposed to attract to him—he's engaged for fuck's sake.  
  
"Listen, kid, I…I don't really display my works, to anyone," Niall stutters, staring right back at Harry, whose legs curled up to his chest and head resting upon his knees. He looked even more like a child like that, despite his height and mature body. In Niall's perspective he looked gawky a little.  
  
"Not even your wife?" he spoke, voice blaring in the silent room.  
  
"Fiancée," corrects Niall, disregarding Harry's question.  
  
"But she's gonna be your wife someday, doesn't she?"  
  
Niall breathes in, holding back. He's a little brat, this one. "So to your question, not even my fiancée." He says patiently, hearing Harry's little laugh.  
  
"Why?" Harry asks again. Niall's patience is wearing thin.  
"Would you please just stop interrogating? I need to finish this portrait someday."  He says in response, gesturing towards the standing canvas.  
  
"Yeah, of course,"  
  
Harry hooks his fingers around the hem of his briefs and Niall instinctively asks, "You want me to turn around?"  
  
He's halfway facing the wall when Harry calls, "I don't mind you watching."  
  
Niall remains quiet for a little while, swallowing rather loudly.  
  
 "Oh god," hisses Niall to himself, a pang of some unfamiliar emotion hit his gut.  
  
Harry's tone was suggestive, small—diffident, as if he was afraid to say it out loud. He hears a sigh, and when he sneaks a glance from behind his shoulder he sees Harry with his back to him, bending his knees slightly as he rolls out of the briefs' fabric, leaving him completely and fully bare.  
  
As Niall catches him turning back, in a sharp motion he turns his head to face the wall, causing him to wince.  
  
"Done?" Niall questions, voice trembling slightly.  
  
"Yeah," Harry retorts. And as Niall turns to see him he's sitting in the same position Niall instructed him the day before.  
  
"So let's begin." Niall arranges all the supplies he needs and starts painting.  
  
The time's already 1am. Niall had drawn for sixteen hours with barely even taking a break, and Harry started whinge about how tired he is the majority of the past four hours. "Can I stay here another night?" he mumbles sleepily.  
  
Niall looks how his eyelids are threatening to close. "What about your mother, won't she be worried?"  
  
"She doesn't care. She's probably too engaged with a random bloke under her sheets to even remember she's got a step son to worry about." He says again, tone drifting slowly with every word.    
  
"If that's so, it's fine by me. You can go sleep on the bed. Reckon it'll be easier tomorrow to finish the portrait when you're already here."  
  
"You have a bed here?" Harry laughs briefly, too exhausted to even open his eyes as he lies on the sofa with his hands under his right cheek, using them as a pillow.  
  
"Indeed I have," he chuckles. "Just in case I am too tired to drive me car whenever I work on something until the small hours, you know. I'm quite the forward thinker." Niall explains, helping Harry get up on his feet.  
  
"Of course," Harry sniggers again, wiping his tired, puffy eyes and letting Niall lead the way.  
  
He'd noticed the massive iron door when he woke up this morning, attempting to comprehend again where he is. He didn't want to be rude so he forgot about it and decided to glance over at the paintings he saw and his own portrait that wasn't even ready but looked as though someone with a very special talent drew.  
  
Niall swings the door to the side as it makes a deafening rattling noise as they both grimace.  
  
"I need to oil that," Niall remarks to his self with a breathless groan when he pushes it even further to the side; the veins in his hands are visible and he's slightly sweating from the force he used on the door.  
  
It's small but convenient. There's a square window nearby the left side of the bed. The bed's a queen size, which occupies the whole space but a nightstand with a lantern that sits on it. Niall grabs the matchbox that's lying by the lantern and lighting its candle up. By the time the room ignites with a diminutive light Harry crawls onto the patches duvet, not bothering to pull it over his half-naked body.  
  
"I'm gonna go now," Niall whispers to Harry, whose head buried inside the welcoming cushion. He looks so restful.  
  
"Aren't you tired too?" wonders Harry in a wimpy tone.  
  
Niall yawns, a thing that gives him away. But despite that he shakes his head negatively. "I'll make it home."  
  
"You sure?"  
  
"Yes kid, now go to sleep." The blond retorts tenderly, stepping out of the small space and swinging the door back as quietly as he can, leaving a little slot. He's ready to turn around when Harry speaks again.  
  
"Thank you." Is all he says before his respirations heaves and he falls asleep.  
  
"You're welcome." Niall murmurs anyway.  
  
******  
  
The following day Niall finishes the portrait around six evening time. He slants it against the wall to let the color dry and pulls out his wallet, handing Harry the promised fifty pounds. He tells him the day he needs to come around for the class and sends him to his way back home.  
  
When he arrived home the door was open and the floor downstairs was empty. He didn't even hassle to call out Lola's name and know if she's even here. He just climbed the stairs, trudging into his room and slumping on the bed with the same clothes he wore three days ago. He was about to shut his eyes as a knock and a creak of the door sounded, the same click of heels is more clear now.  
  
"What do you want?" he grumbled into the mattress of his bed, having no power to listen to her rambling bollocks and more shit.  
  
"Don't talk to your mother that way, young man!" she scolds and Harry rolls his eyes as he turns on his back, leaning against the headboard and looking at her ornate attire. She always puts too much make-up on her face and wears the most provocative and inappropriate clothes she can find. Harry despised her more for that.  
  
"You're not my mother, first off. And I'm not a kid anymore, I'm nineteen, I don't need your lectures." He argues, giving her a deadly look that she didn't hesitate to return.  
  
"Of course I am your mother," she had a cigarette pressed between two of her fingers as she speaks. She brings the butt of the cigarette close to her mouth and inhales, her red lipstick staining the stick. "And just to wake you up darling, the fact that you're practically an adult doesn't mean you act like one. Because all I see right now, in front of me, is a pouty little toddler who doesn't know shit about life. You might as well not behave that way if you want me to halt my 'lectures'." Lola continues.  
  
She glares at him with her dark eyes like she's the devil who tries to steal his soul. She never was easy. She was conceited, vain from wisdom and insight. All she cared about was what dress she's going to wear and how handsome the man she's dating is. Harry never understood what his father had seen in her. All she had was beauty. He never could compare her to his mother; who all she cared about was him and his father. How pure and innocent she was. Not like the woman standing right in front of him.  
  
The moment his father passed away he was under her custody. Which she obviously didn't want to happen, but that was the law and she had to deal with it since she married his father.  
  
Harry wasn't easy on her either. He made her life a living hell since the second she stepped inside the house and his father introduced him to his new girlfriend twelve years ago. It's not like she hadn't tried at first to sit and talk with him, but it was slapdash and she didn't look interested at all.  
  
"You know you're not my mother. You never wanted or even attempted to be for the sake of me. My mother was lovely, unlike you, bloody slag. My real mother died. I never wished for a tart who fucks blokes my own age to be as her replacement." He lets out, his voice's octave rising within every word he utters.  
  
For a minor second she looked offended, but then her smug smirk and scheming expression appeared on. "It makes the two of us, since you fuck men _my_ age. Shall we call it even, then?"  
  
Harry chortles, "I like them mature, rough. Could you blame me?" he remarks cockily.  
  
"Not at all, 'cause as you're already aware. _I_ like them young and beautiful. Could _you_ blame _me_?" She mocks, stretching up her neck, her body erecting in pride as she preens by threading her fingers through her blond, stiff hair while batting her eyelashes at him. All Harry was left to do was groan silently and roll his eyes again. She was so bloody immature for a fifty year old.  
  
"Anyhow," she changes the subject when she's over taking the piss out of Harry. "Where have you little rat been in the past three days?"  
  
Harry hitches his arms across his chest, laughing out loud. "Now you care?" he cast his words out at her, snorting and sneering.  
  
She lets out a fake laugh, "I always care." Lola gibes, shrugging her shoulders, laughing a little bit more and smashing the fumes from her cigarette on his study table. Ashes sullying his open notebook, covering a few written letters as she takes the opportunity and rubs it further, willing to bring Harry to his edge. Harry knows better, though, knows that she won't thrive with that attempt of her as long as it's Harry who she plays with.  
  
Elegantly she walks out of the room and slams the door behind her. Harry just snickers to himself. "Bloody cunt,"  
  
******  
  
Four days later it's Monday again and Niall told Harry he needs to be at his studio by five-thirty that day.

To be completely frank, Harry was never abashed with his own body or about who he was. He didn't care exposing himself. People sometimes mocked him because most of his mates were birds and only three were blokes. They all knew he was actually a fag. And it quite offended him when they told him they knew all this while.  
  
He also had a thing to older men. Which he couldn't really comprehend why, but he did. Perhaps it's because the society never accepted people like him, specifically the youngsters. But to his fortunate his circle of friends didn't mind even a bit.  
  
He padded in London's crowded streets, navigating his way to the studio.  
  
As he approached the door he knocked on it twice before it opened and Niall greeted him. "All right?" he says, gesturing Harry inside of the warm studio.  
  
Harry nods, humming as a retort. When he lifts his gaze from the floor he meets with a lot of students who look at him with blown eyes, especially the girls who had some anticipation in their expression.  
  
"They've never seen someone like me before or…" he whispers, prodding to the side as he speaks. Hands still shoved inside his coat's pockets.  
  
Niall chuckles, "I reckon they are just very excited for today." He replies quietly back, shrugging.  
  
He donned a knitted cream jumper with three big buttons. Its collar reaching up his throat, yet parts of his freckled pale skin still visible to the eye. His slacks are as per usual black. There's a red bruise on the corner of his jawline from the time he shaved this morning.    
  
His arms were crossed across his chest in some kind of introversion. He lifts his right hand to scratch at the expanse between his mouth and nose. "Everyone, this is Harry, and he's going to be our model today." As he utters these words he gestures to his side, where Harry stands there and waves to the small crowd in front of him. Niall's head is ducked to the ground while he speaks.  
  
When Harry gets inside the bathroom to wrap his body with the robe and take off his clothing, Niall elaborates the students about what exactly they are going to do I today's class.  
  
"Yeah, so each of you is gonna use a pencil—and _only_ a pencil—to draw the young lad I just introduced you to since I guess for some of you it's the first portrait. It's a little different than what we usually do here, so take it as a challenge."   
  
Once he finishes Harry enters in with the same blue robe. Niall leans against the edge of his desk; following every step Harry takes until he stops in the middle of the room, idly to Niall. Niall's right hand supports him as he clutches the solid wooden table while he gives Harry the cue to take the robe off. He notices Harry's Adam's-apple rising and falling down his throat when he peels the robe off his shoulders.  
  
Another pang hits Niall, now at his chest when he sees Harry naked again. He rubs his throat in attempt to try and make the suffocation he feels fade, but it never helps because with every second he stares more it gets worse.  
  
Harry sits on a chair, its backrest to his front. His head rests on his arms and he faces Niall; his long hair covering parts of his skin. They lock eyes for a few good moments but Niall looks away and scribbles nonsense on a draft paper.  
  
The students are working silently as Niall observes them, focusing on Harry and wondering how they're supposed to start or draw a certain line. A while later he hears a low whistle and when he snaps his head to where it comes from, he sees it's Harry.  
  
"You have a gum?" he hisses into his arm to muffle further the echo of his voice, giggling slightly.  
  
Niall stifles a chuckle, knitting his brows together. "You can't chew a gum right now, Harry."  
  
Harry pouts and shuffles a little but Niall is quick to tell him to stop, tilts his head to the side and snickers quietly.  
  
Harry got dressed again and everyone evacuated from Niall's studio. Only the two of them left. Harry slides his bag on his shoulder and approaches Niall, who is gathering the papers from the easels and placing them on top of the stack of other sheets on the small cabinet by the corner of the room.  
  
"You portray really well in their paintings," Niall compliments to Harry when he looks at the last sheet and puts it to the side.  
  
"Well, you said you have talents in your class."  
  
"Yes I did, but maybe it's just you." He blurts and in the moment he realizes what he says he apologizes. "Sorry,"  
  
Harry shakes his head, slightly blushing. "Don't be," he mutters. They both stay quiet for a few seconds before Harry changes the subject. "Would you… would you mind if I'd join your class? It's seems quite fun to paint and all, never tried to draw something before to be honest, so I might be awful but-"  
  
Niall cuts him off before he can finish.  
  
"That would be lovey, but the class is already far ahead and it can be difficult for you to catch up." Niall explains, taking in a deep breath when he sees Harry's disappointed face.  
  
"Oh. Just wanted something to spend my time on after work,"  
  
Niall inhales, tucking his hand into his trousers' back pocket. "I can give you tutors?" he suggests.  
  
Suddenly Harry tilts his head up and his face lights as if the sun radiates on him.  "How much does it cost?" he questions, sounding more eager than he wanted to. He didn't want to sound eager at all.  
  
"I'll… I'll give you the first two classes for free." Niall laughs, taking a glance over Harry.  
  
"Okay," Harry smiles. "Tell me when can we start?"  
  
"Tomorrow works?"  
  
"Tomorrow it is."  
  
******  
  
"We're going for a brunch tomorrow with my parents." Mia announces when Niall enters in.  
  
"Tomorrow?" he sounds panicked as he maneuvers into the kitchen and turns on the radio.  
  
"Yeah why?" she asks from the parlor, a book in her hands.  
  
"I can't tomorrow."  
  
"Niall, it's my parents, you know them." Mia whines, slamming the book and straightening up from her lying position.  
  
"I really can't. I've got a tutor tomorrow." Niall says over the noise of the radio as he's rummaging in the fridge. "Is there any beer left?"  
  
"By the door. Is a tutor really more important than my parents?"  
  
Niall grimaces, sighing heavily. "We see them all the time. The tutor is extra money, Mia." He claims, grabbing the beer bottle and taking off the lid with the opener he pulled out of the drawer. He tosses the lid into the sink and puts the opener back to its place, leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen and bringing the head of the beer against his mouth, swigging as he watches Mia carefully.  
  
"We… wanted to discuss our wedding." She excuses, "C'mon babe."  
  
"Mia, we can't depend on them for the rest of our lives. Neither on my parents," his voice accusing in a way when he strides towards her and sits on the spot she didn't take, placing the beer of the bottle on the coffee table next to the vase—that his parents bought for their housewarming—filled with the lilies she must've picked from her garden. "We'll owe them a fair amount of money, and I'm certain we both don't want that. Especially since you have no job right now,"

  
Mia sighs. "Can we at least have brunch with them?" she looks at him with begging eyes while she strokes his arm.  
  
"I told you-"  
  
"In the morning then, so you will get to the tutor in time."  
  
He thinks about it for a while, stroking Mia's leg.  
  
"Okay," he surrenders and kiss her on the lips, embracing her in his arms and whispering to her hair that smells like sweet cherries, "I love you."  
  
"I love you, too."  
  
******  
  
They're sitting around the big table in Mia's parents' backyard, because apparently todays 'a nice day for a winter time and we should sit outside'. Everything looks so posh and kept; Niall hates it. He adopted the trait to hate everything that is overly faultless from how his parents behaved around him; always trying to show him how perfect they are whilst all they were and are still is a pair of imperfect narcissists who lie constantly and act as hypocrites so people will like them and they’ll have a place of honor in their society. Niall despised that. Some may consider him as ungrateful about all he's got, perhaps will call him a spoiled brat, but he knows it's not true, he knows why all of this is not really for him.  
  
He chews on the bacon he took into his mouth and jabbing on a mushroom with his fork, cutting it even if it's not necessary as silently and politely as he could. Mia and her parents were too concentrated in their food to even start talking. Much different from what they typically do in their own house.  
  
Mia's mother notices she plays with her baked beans and calls her out of it, telling her to stop playing with her food like she was a five year old.  
  
"Are you okay love?" Niall asks her quietly after he downed the food to his stomach.  
  
She nods. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking, is all."  
  
"About what," he pushes her, now talking more loudly than he had intended.  
  
"The financial stuff, what you told me,"  
  
"Don't bother on that. Now keep eating." He nods his head towards her plate.  
  
"Don't be my mum." she giggles, eyes wrinkling.  
  
"God forbid Mia, never!" he exclaims in his best impression of Mia's mother silently.  
  
They stop giggling to themselves the moment Mia's mother snaps her head up, glaring at them.  
  
"So what the pair of you thinks of doing at your wedding day?" she asks, placing her silver cutlery by each side of her almost empty plate.  
  
"Niall thought about doing it all in the church," Mia stutters, waiting for her mother's reactions. She nods and looks at Mia's father expectantly.  
  
"Think it could be lovely, even cheaper." He concurs with Niall, who murmurs a thank you.  
  
"I think you should extend the party. Do something in the park," she says, glaring at Mia.  
  
"I thought about that mother," Mia speaks, eyes wide when she looks at her mother. "But we can't really afford that much."  
  
"Well of course you can't, that's why you have us."  
  
"About that," Niall cuts in, "we don't really want you to take the burden on your shoulders, and we can't really depend on you nor my parents forever."  
  
"Oh, don't be silly." She bends her hand and dismisses Niall's words.  
  
"Mrs. Bower, I'm serious." His tone is more firm now, dismayed that the older woman doesn't take him, or her daughter solemnly.  
  
"Always trying to act noble," she laughs, calling the help to come and remove the plates from the table and bring them a fresh cold lemonade ewer. Niall breathes in, trying to hold himself back and tolerate the time that's left until he goes back to his studio.  
  
*******  
  
By the time he gets into the studio he recognizes Harry. He's sitting in front of an easel with no canvas or paper, palms patiently resting on his thighs. He wears a red jumper and Niall must admit he got slightly startled.  
  
"Oh, you’re here," he breathes out, smiling uneasily and strides towards Harry's direction.  
  
"Yeah, sorry I got in just like that. It was quite cold to wait outside." Harry apologizes.  
  
"No, it’s alright. I get it. Sorry I'm late. I got delayed by my fiancée's parents. Wanted to discuss about wedding issues, drank some tea you know."  Niall laughs nervously, stabilizes next to Harry. "How much time have you been in here?"  
  
Niall looks at him, watching how he licks his scarlet lips and his eyelashes looks slightly longer than the day before. They always seem to fall into these stare session since they met.  
   
"Only ten minutes," Harry assures.    
  
Niall catches himself staring at the younger's lips again, but quick to shake his self mentally off, blinking. "So I'm not that bad." He says.  
  
"Nah, you're fine."  
  
"Good. Okay," Niall murmurs, putting his palms on his hips. "Shall we start?"  
  
"Sounds great."  
  
Niall tells Harry to draw whatever springs up his mind, and within thirty minutes ends up drawing a basket of fruits, which doesn't look like a basket of nothing at all. The only thing that looks like something decent is the banana he added next to the oranges and apples.  
  
"It looks tedious," Harry snorts, pointing at his paper and ducking his head down, flushing a little.  
  
"You'll learn. Sometimes it doesn't come out naturally." Niall says with sympathy, smiling at him.  
  
"Shame," The curly laughs lightly and shakes his head. At least he tried.  
  
"It is a shame." Niall agrees, taking the pencil out of Harry's hold and instinctively placing his free hand on Harry's nape. "Here," Niall bends over the paper and fixes a few lines and fills them, fingers unnoticeably digging into the skin of Harry's nape.  
  
Instead of looking at how Niall's drawing on the paper, Harry fixates his eyes on Niall's profile, examining each and every freckle, the shape of his nose and the side of his thin lips. As quick as he could he turned his head to the paper again due to the fact that he didn't want Niall to catch him gazing, again. "Now, it looks better," he laughs tightly, taking the pencil Niall offers him back into his possession.  
  
"You just had to straighten the lines and fill them so it'll create more volume in the painting." Niall replies, realizing how close their faces actually are. His mind tells him to retreat, to say anything and remove the bloody hand he placed on the younger's nape, but his body is in another world, never listens to whatever his head has to say and even leans further into the minor space left between him and Harry.  
  
Their noses brush as Niall stares down on plump ajar lips, swallowing down saliva to banish from the dryness in his throat. Harry knows what's going to happen next, but instead of kissing Niall right away he rises on his feet and pushes Niall onto the chair he sat on seconds ago.  
  
"What are you doing?" Niall questions in a breathless tone. His arms are open as he goes paralyzed when he looks at what Harry is doing. He unfastens his trousers and pulls off his jumper over his head, his torso bare now.  
  
He tugs down his slacks, left with merely his boxers. Niall's gulping hard as Harry climbs on top of Niall's lap, straddling his legs and begins to undo Niall's on trousers.

"Shh, let me," he hisses, sounding as if he's faltering for a moment but unbuttoning Niall's cream vest and his crisp white blouse underneath, loosening his tie and tossing the vest and tie on the floor by the leg of the chair.  
  
He's smoothing his soft palm over Niall's shaggy chest hair and down to his abdomen, admiring his body. Niall feels numb, not knowing what he's supposed to do. He needs to stop it, he is aware of that, but something selfish in him makes him do nothing and let Harry keep with his deed. He grinds his bum over Niall's groin, wrapping his arms around Niall's neck; fingers tangling in his short hair. Niall lifts his arm and brings his hand to cup Harry's chin, caressing lightly the skin there with his thumb, slowly, while he eyes his inviting lips again.  
  
"Kiss me now, Niall," whispers Harry, voice low, lusting for another interaction between their bodies.  
  
But Niall never answers, so Harry has to nip his head down and press his lips on Niall's. Niall stiffs in shock but softens and gives into the kiss. It's brief and tender, and mostly confusing. Niall had never experienced something like this with the same sex. The only body he truly knows is Mia's. And that also took a long time to discover.  
  
Harry gasps as he withdraws away from Niall, murmuring stuff and bending down to retrieve his clothes from the floor. "I'm _really_ sorry, I'm really fucking sorry!" he stutters under his breath overwhelmingly, emphasizing every word. "You're engaged, I have no idea what came onto me I ju-"     
  
Niall just dragged him by his arm onto his chest before he could finish with his apologetic words. "Come here," he grouses, hand slowly gliding down Harry's suddenly trembling body, holding onto his lower back as now Harry gasps again, but from a totally different reason.  
  
Niall grabs Harry through the fabric of his briefs, squeezing as Harry cups his cheek and before they kiss again Harry breathes out heavily when Niall's thumb rubs where now he's getting hard. Their noses bump during the kiss, it looks all so sloppy and ungraceful, but they keep going like there's nothing to stop them.  
  
Niall lifts Harry back onto his lap and he's more aware now than before. He's conscious about what he is doing and knows what it'll cost him. But as he lets go of Harry's lips and maneuvers downward to his chin, throat and collarbones, it's like there is no way of return, the road only heads forward. Feels like you bought a one way ticket to a foreign country you know nothing of.  
  
He tastes a forbidden fruit, he knows that he is. But the forbidden fruit is so sweet, and ripe, and so damn fresh you can't get enough from it. So you take another. And this one is even better than the last. But the feeling you get after can affect you and the people around you. The fruit that once made you desire for more, now makes you nauseas, and sick. Because you were selfish, and you craved for more when you knew it was banned before you took that one bite that changed it all.  
  
Harry buries his nose into Niall's silky hair while Niall takes one of his nipples in between his teeth, sucking and licking, causing Harry to moan and hold tighter his hair. He ruts his hips on Niall and in the heat of the moment he reaches his hand down to salvage Niall's throbbing cock out from the caging fabrics, thanking himself that he previously opened the fly. Niall grunts briefly when Harry begins to stroke his shaft up and down, finding a right rhythm, sweeping the pad of his thumb over the tip, smearing pre-come all over.  
  
Niall brings his own thumb to rub over Harry's damp bottom lip, sliding it inside his mouth and letting him suck on it. Harry gives him a prolong gaze with his green eyes, mesmerized by Niall's own crystal blue. He skips to his forefinger and then the following two, sucking as he multitasks; maintaining his eyes onto Niall's and stroking his cock along both of his deeds. Niall drags out his wet fingers and teases with them Harry's rim under the fabric that still remained covering his lower body. He threads one of them inside of Harry, listening to his silent, almost pained moan.  
  
"Have you done this before with someone, Harry?" Rasps Niall, voice low and breathless when for a brief second Harry stops stroking him. He begins to thrust the one finger in and out of Harry.  
  
"Yes, Ah—quite a few times," Harry bounces, pleading Niall to add another finger, but instead of one Niall pushes two in one time, making Harry grimace and gape his lips further. A louder moan escapes his soft mouth.  
  
"So tell me how you like it," Niall's voice sounds worn out, much like Harry's moans.  
  
"I like to be filled up," he starts, supporting his body by holding onto Niall's shoulder.  
  
"And?" presses Niall. Nosing at Harry's flushed red cheek and gluing open-mouthed kisses on the chubby skin.  
  
Harry moans when Niall releases his cock from Harry's hand, focusing on pleasuring solely the mess of a boy above him. He was selfish enough, he reckons.  
  
It's a sin, what he's doing. What they are both doing. He never betrayed Mia before; she's a lovely lass. Niall loves her to death. She's so sweet, and caring. Sometimes overly uptight, but that's why Niall loves her—she's not perfect. He never thought on cheating on her, never crossed his mind even once. He wasn't this sort of a man. But the wicked demon that inhabits somewhere distance in the back of his head never notifies how when he does that, if ever, he'll feel so numb and avid from the situation to even think properly about the consequences.     
  
"When people touch me," he swallows, lips looks swollen and so, so beautiful. "That I like, a lot. I also love sucking cock."  
  
"So you're a little cock seeker, aren't you?" Niall chuckles, amused by the young curly lad who instead of a snicker produces a loud long groan as Niall's pace steps up.  
  
"I don't give myself to anyone I don't like," he's shutting his eyes, licking the side of his lips as he digs his claws into the fabric of Niall's white blouse, tugging at it when he feels closer to an edge.  
  
"I'm special then," Niall smirks, murmuring against Harry's mouth. He feels dizzy, as if he drank a whole bottle of cheap alcohol. He doesn't feel like himself, he feels dirty, viscous that it feels so good, a bastard for doing this to Mia.      
  
But why in hell he never stops it all.  
  
"Faster, Niall, I'm close."  
  
The way Harry moans his name brings heat up Niall's abdomen, and Harry bites his lips when Niall works his fingers inside of him. He comes into seconds on Niall's bare abdomen, staining his skin with the spunk.  
  
"Fuck," growls Niall. He barely even touched him.  
  
Harry pants heavily, starting to kiss on his jawline and down on the freckles adorning his neck, trailing down on Niall's torso with his mouth and tongue; licking him clean and fisting his still pulsing hard cock in his hand, wrapping his pretty mouth around the tip. Only the sight may cause Niall to come.  
  
He swallows around him and Niall clenches his fist in Harry's long hair. One stroke on his cock and he comes into Harry's mouth harder than ever, sighing in contentment but immediately fills with waves of guilt. He stands up, rubbing his head over his face roughly, peeved and disappointed in himself.  
  
"Get dressed." He mutters to Harry impatiently, fastening his trousers back and storming into the loo, slamming the door behind him.  
  
"What have I done?!" he yells at himself, voice echoing in the small space. He scratches his forehead and bites his lips anxiously until drops of blood stinging his bottom lip.  
  
He opens the water, scrubbing his hands that feels so filthy right now, grateful he got no mirror hanging on the wall so he won't have to look at himself and drown into his self-aggravation even further—if it's possible.

A groan flees out of his lips and into his damp palms when he splashes his face with water. And just in the right momentum the door swings open and Harry stands in its frame.  
  
"You okay?" he wonders in a timid voice, looking at Niall in worry that can fool you and seem genuine.  
  
"I'm fine." Growls Niall in the most restrained tone he can produce, walking out the bathroom as he wipes his face with his blouse.  
  
"You don't seem fine," He bends down to grab his vest and tie, clutching the clothes into his chest and breathes in deeply, daring to even chuckle with his head down, staring at his feet.  
  
"Yeah, well," he lifts his gaze up and meets with vulnerable looking Harry. "I just cheated on my fiancée. I'm not even married to her yet and I managed to betray her!" he laughs again; a cold, dry and sarcastic laugh that makes Harry nauseas.  
  
"Could we at least continue the tutor sometime?" Harry's voice low and small, careful.  
  
"Look where it led us," the tone Niall spoke in gave Harry chills. It sounded vile, exactly like what they've just done. "I don't know. I need the money," he adds more softly now, not looking at Harry.  
  
"I can pay you, though you said the first two classes would be free," Harry suggests.  
  
Niall shakes his head, inhaling air he tries to collect into his lungs and stay calm, nevertheless he already snapped. "No, just go and play with kids your age."  
  
He says these words when he's already by the door and one leg out of his studio, breathing in again before he's out completely, walking into the snow that started to fall and leaving Harry alone in his own studio.     
  
******  
  
He parks in front of his house, removing snow that collected on the vehicle's windshield with the wipers. He drove down the streets in overdue out of anger. He was lucky enough no officers were around. When he observes at the seat next to him the clothes Harry took off of him earlier were up in a small pile. He went out to the snow barely dressed.

It's amazing how nature can be; one second having blue skies and a shining warm sun, and the next having a cold, white snow covering people's feet with the most dull skies God could create above. And the funny thing was that it exampled perfectly how Niall felt. One second he tells Mia how much he loves her and in the second he goes and fucks a man he knows for merely a week. Fucking incredible, innit?  
  
He grabs the tie and knots it around his neck again. Fixing the collar of the white blouse and sliding the cream vest he wore on it back onto his body. It's then when he realizes he forgot the coat in the studio on the sofa.  
  
Bloody fucking hell.  
  
As he emerges out of his tiny car his balls freeze. He shudders slightly and strides towards his house's door, but then he remembers the painting he put in the back seat not so long ago. He opens the creaking door and attempts to pull it out. The square canvas got stuck since the vehicle is quite too narrow to carry such a thing, but only willing to take in her human beings and small objects.  
  
He struggles with that for a while, wrestling with it as he throws slurs on the poor canvas, "Don't… be… a fucking… arse..." he breathes.

Somehow Niall manages to yank it out and he stumbles back with it. He slams the car's door and walks into the house with the painting in his hand.  
  
The house is warm and smells like food. But Niall can't be arsed from how mental and disgusting he feels. The worst part was that he loved every second of it.   
  
"I made dinner," Mia calls from the kitchen. Niall ignores her for counted moments, stepping up the stairs.  
  
"Not hungry." He shouts to her, and before he even passes in their bedroom he gets inside his office and locks the door.  
  
He couldn't even look at her from how abashed he is.  
  
He places the painting on his chair, staring at it briefly before he swivels on his heel, thinking about what he should do with it.  
  
It's Harry's portrait. It turned out better than he thought it would and right now, it made him even madder. He couldn't hate this painting even if it's all he wanted. He'll be a liar if he would say he didn't fancy on kissing him once but tried to avoid it due to the circumstances he has a goddamn fiancée. But what he actually did was worse than a meaningless kiss.  
  
He took in the painting again and then looked at the one on the wall. It was a plain drawing of flowers in a vase, sitting on a wooden table he did ten years ago. He debated if he should replace it with Harry's portrait but went against it and shoved it under his desk.  
  
******  
  
Harry's past two days went by like a crawling tortious. He worked at the café for three hours duty and made his usual thirty pounds, and in the afternoon he met Lyla in the park with Nick who came to visit for a week. They asked him how he felt but all he said was that he was all right. He kept what happened inside and never uttered a word about it. His big mouth caused him trouble enough before.  
  
Today he decided to come over Niall's studio and apologize. He knows he's got a class today and he'll make the best out of it.  
  
So when he sees students getting out of the studio from the other corner of the road, he waits for them all to emerge and crosses the road, not checking if any vehicle is in the way.  
  
Surprisingly today there was no snow whatsoever. But it was still too cold not to wear gloves, coat and a scarf.  
  
He opened the door slightly, knocking on it when he peers inside. Niall is sitting on his table and scrabbles something on a paper like he does the majority of his spare time. Harry learned that even from the short acquaintance of him with the older.  
  
Niall tilted his head to the side, frowning when he sees Harry. "What are you doing here?" He questions, voice cold, dark and bitter in the empty studio.  
  
"I just came here to… to apologize, about what had occurred two days ago." Harry stutters, trying not to upset him too much. He feels as if he had already done more than enough.  
  
"Only two days?" he laughs sarcastically. "You look appalled, kid. You reckon me to hurt you, be _mad_?"  
   
"N…No?" Harry falters lowly, grimacing a little.  
  
"No." he suddenly stands up, getting closely to Harry, pointing a finger into his chest. "You know why it bothers me so much, besides the fact that I betrayed the girl I love?"  
  
He sounds louder now, stepping closer and making Harry stumble against the wall. "Is the fact that I _liked_ it, I liked the rush it gave me, that vile thrill…" he trails of, blue eyes piercing into Harry as he speaks in his agitated tone. "And God, _your mouth_ made me a mental man."  
  
Harry swallows rather loudly, his eyes wide, looking like deer in headlights when there's no spacious left between them. Niall never hesitates to cup Harry's cheek with his big hand, bend his head down and kiss Harry in such a blustery and passionate way.  
  
He moves to pepper Harry's jawline and throat with kisses, finding the sensitive spot on his neck. Harry moans when Niall connects their lips again, guiding him to the small room and slamming Harry's back on the iron door. Harry grunts and Niall apologizes but as they both fall in a fist of laughter any kind of pain fades away.  
  
Niall retreats from Harry and opens the heavy door that makes the same creak it always does, pushing Harry inside. They slump on the squeaking bed as Niall wastes no time and slides Harry's trousers down his leg, removing his shoes on the way. He climbs on top of him again, beginning to take off the rest of his remaining clothes.  
  
Initially he grabbed his hands and pulled the gloves. After, he tugs at the bloody scarf engulfing Harry's neck. He peels off the coat and pulls the knitted grey jumper Harry wore over his head; making his hair look more disheveled than it did beforehand. He groans, disgruntled, when he sees that under the jumper, Harry's got another layer of a  buttoned-up shirt.  
  
"So many layers," he grumbles.  
  
"It's freezing cold outside." The curly excuses and sneers at how unpleased Niall looks.  
  
"Whatever, turn around." Instructs Niall once Harry is completely nude, watching how he obeys.  
  
His arse displays in front of him. All of this is new to Niall. And he feels like a cunt for what he's doing for the second time, but it feels fucking right. He feels alive.

Niall pulls his own red jumper over his head and tosses it to the floor. When he's left with his briefs he falls on his knees and grasps Harry's shin, bringing him into him.  
  
Harry moans when he feels Niall's wet tongue on him and recalls how good it feels when someone does this to him.  
  
"How you knew doing that?" Harry inquires breathlessly as Niall gets in further with his tongue.  
  
"I'm not ignorant. I know a thing or two about homosexual sex." He mumbles, slicking his thumb and going back to work on Harry, now pushing two fingers next to his tongue.  
  
Harry doesn't utter a word because all he could do was moan and clench the sheet into his fist. When Niall's done he tugs down his briefs and spits on his hand, stroking his cock eagerly and going on top of the bed behind Harry, propping on his knees and guiding his cock against Harry's hole.  
  
"You okay?" he asks.  
  
"Yeah," Harry breathes out.  
  
As he pushes inside of Harry they both groan in sync. It feels so tight, and so different from what he usually knows. He holds Harry's hips and when Harry adjusts he starts to thrust.  
  
It starts slow, tender, until Harry moans for Niall to fuck him harder, give him more.   
  
"Patience, kid," Niall breathes out, pushing Harry closer to him.  
  
"I hate when people refers me as a kid." whines the younger.  
  
"Sure," Niall dismisses, even rolling his eyes a little; because Harry _was_ a kid, sort of.  
  
Niall grasps a rhythm and as he does, Harry buries his head into the mattress further. Harry fucks into him and Niall growls at the sensation of pleasure that's striking him.  
  
Harry's hands wander to pinch and twist on his erected nipples as the other supports him on the mattress and Niall slams into him when he craves more of the feeling he gets inside his winding body.  
  
"Fuck," Niall groans, claws deepening inside of Harry's hipbone before he gets a hold on Harry's leaking and throbbing cock, curling his fingers around the shaft and starts stroking when he is close to coming.  
  
"Harder," Harry moans in the most erotic tone Niall have ever heard. It was husky and desperate and it sent shivers up Niall's spine. He watches as Harry's long hair bounces even though half of it is glued to his sweaty forehead, and it amazes him how he wants to see his face at this kind of state. "Niall, I'm going to come, please,"  
  
His mouth is ajar and eyes shut when Harry moans even louder than before and comes into Niall's fist.  
  
"Bloody hell," murmurs Niall as he keeps holding onto Harry's hip and rubs his filthy palm on the sheet.  
  
When he's close to his own release his mind goes blank and all he sees is white. An image of Mia forms from the white edges he sees. A memory of her laughing about something stupid he told her. She's always glowing when she's around him, always has something nice to say to him, so much love to embrace him with. And when he goes back to real life, his pace is slowing down and another wave of realization sweeps him over.  
  
There's something unique about Harry; something different, exciting, new. He's young, seductive and so goddamn gorgeous. He doesn't know him well, but there is some inevitable power that draws him to Harry. He never had something—someone—else except Mia in his life. She was his first love, his first girl, his first anything. And God knows, he knows, how much he loves that woman. She gave him her everything and he did the same. But now, when he's got something he had never experience before, it all seems as the past could never return. His life suddenly seemed so dull, so uptight, predictable, and so, so _regular._    
  
"Is everything okay?" Harry says when he notices Niall is not completely there and his pace leveled down before he even came. He turns around to take a glance over him and when he sees his distraught expression as he stares darkly into a spot of skin on Harry's back, he turns around fully and caresses his hand on Niall's hot neck. "Niall," he calls again when Niall haven't said anything back to him.  
  
He closes the gape and begins to plant small pecks on Niall's flushed cheeks, taking Niall's softening cock into his fist and beginning to pump slowly.  
  
Niall nuzzles into the crook of Harry's neck, cracking a sob, mumbling, "What am I doing?"  
  
Harry's free hand fondling Niall's nape soothingly, making him relax as much as he could. "Shh," Harry's cooing, leaning his forehead against Niall's, brushing their noses against each other and kisses him softly on his lips.  
  
Niall comes with a barely audible grunt, and they both fall on the mattress of the rickety bed. Harry snuggles on Niall's chest when Niall runs his hand over his poor-looking face and then through his messy blond hair. His eyes are puffy and nose red. He clears his throat to dismiss the rugged sound his throat's making.  
  
Harry scratches Niall's chest with his fingers and rubs over his collarbones, lifting his head to look clearly at Niall when he starts to speak. "What am I gonna tell her now?" he voices, still sounding rug and a distressed. "That I shagged a nineteen year old boy behind her back four months before our wedding? Twice,"  
  
"Or," Harry proffers. "You can tell her nothing?"  
  
Niall's shoulders sags in frustration. "I'm an honest man, Harry. Well, I was."  
  
"You really want to ruin your life by telling her?" now Harry's propping on one elbow, engulfing another next to Niall's head, looking down on him.  
  
Niall sighs, bringing Harry closer to his chest and kissing the top of his head as he strokes his back. "I don't know."  
  
******     
  
Two months countdown to the wedding day and Niall feels as these past two months were incredibly stressful for him and Mia. He's afraid on what's going to go down a week ahead before the actual day.  
  
They went to book the date at the church. They managed to satisfy both of their parents when they agreed on letting them help with the pay of half of the wedding. The party will be occurred in the hall next to the church and they said that there will be no more than forty guests from his side who lived here in London and fifty from hers. They wanted this to be small and elegant, which made them refuse politely to any more guest suggestions from each of their parents.  
  
Niall felt uneasy. Because when he could, he had his classes where he was busy with, preparing ideas of what to do in them, and the private tutors with Harry, who quickly became to something else instead of actually teaching art. He barely saw Mia, letting her arrange most of it with her mum, with the excuse he's got work. He hoped she didn't notice the mood swings he had and when she asked him to touch her he replied with a tentative answer. It still didn't feel right for him to touch her after he touched someone else.  
  
Today she went checking out her dress with a few friends, accompanied by her mother. So he took advantage of this time and went to the nearest pub. He told Harry to meet him outside and then they'll drive in his vehicle to their place; the studio.  
  
It's all been done very secretively. As if someone was watching them with narrow eyes, waiting to catch them together and preach how wrong this is. Niall tried his best not to get too attached to the pretty boy.  
  
He sat on one of the stools of the bar, clutching his whiskey glass in his hand, staring at the brown liquid intently while he waits for Harry to arrive. He swigs from the whiskey, glancing over the glass door of the pub; watching how people walk on the sidewalk, emerging out of stores and vehicles sweeping with their wheels on the road. Children with ice cream smeared all over their chubby faces, striding hand in hand with one of their parents happily or having dolls hugged tight to their small chests.  
  
He looked for Harry, trying to spot his curly long hair and tall figure. Perhaps he wore that stupid fedora he sometimes wears to act vague even though there really wasn't a need to. He made Niall laugh.  
  
Niall returns his gaze back to the glass filled with liquor, tapping his pads onto the cold tumbler. He breathes in, hearing a faint knocking sound coming from his right. When he tilts his head to the side, at first doesn't see anyone, but when he drifts his eyes sideways he spots Harry, knocking for him with a lopsided grin. He smirks and drains the alcohol from the glass, slamming it on the wooden bar, pays the few pounds he owed for the drink and emerged out of the pub.  
  
Harry was propping against the street brick wall, hands tucked inside his long coat's pockets, wearing a fedora that's matching the grey color of his coat.  
  
"Shady," Teases Niall, chortling when he leans against the wall next to Harry, staring forward at the swaying people, deciding then to transfer his attention to the lad beside him.  
  
"Sod off, wanker." Harry windges, saying the latter of his short sentence in a playful tone and Niall chuckles again, following Harry, who by now had already opened the vehicle's door.  
  
Niall starts the engine quickly, rubbing his palm on Harry's thigh and kissing his shoulder as his right hand is holding onto the steering wheel. "Stop it," Harry giggles when Niall approaches a sensitive spot behind his ear that makes him wiggle, nibbling there.  
  
"No," Niall laughs as he lays Harry on the leather seats and getting between his open legs as Harry wraps them around his slim waist and holding onto his nape lightly. "Haven't you missed me?" Niall feigns hurt in his tone.  
  
"I saw you last Friday, you daft."  
  
"Exactly, it was three days ago." argues Niall, kissing on his neck as he takes Harry's stupid hat off.  
  
"Aren't you supposed to help Mia with the wedding? When is it happening anyways, two months?"  
  
"Two months," Now Niall's looking at Harry, nodding his head, his voice low and timid.  
  
The thing of being with Harry is that he doesn't have to think about the wedding so much and he's got two hours of being with him, not having to think about the burden of the wedding or think about anything at all besides having a laugh with him. So now when he mentioned it, the never-ending guilt is brought back on him.  
  
"Hey, I know you're stressed, nervous about this all," Harry starts, "Know what? Forget I even asked, just take me to the studio and do with me whatever you want. Yes?" his fingers calming Niall as he speaks, rubbing them gently over his scalp.  
  
Niall gingerly sweeps his thumb over Harry's cheek, leaning down to press a kiss onto his mouth. They both sit back as Niall drives into the city.  
  
*******  
  
Niall stares down at Harry; whose mouth is wrapped around the head of his cock, with his knees on the bed and one hand holds on Niall's hipbone as the other threads the length of him further deep between his already swollen lips.  
  
He pulls at his hair in a sharp twist. Because he knows how much Harry likes it. The proof is in the loud moan Harry lets out around him.  
  
"I know how much you like it babe, just as much as you like to suck a dick." He chuckles leeringly, blue eyes hunting over Harry, who keeps sucking, harder now, as his watery eyes are pleading.  
  
Harry retreats from Niall, lips disconnecting with Niall's cock in a wet sound; a line of saliva is stretched from Niall's tip to Harry's bottom lip. "So fucking gorgeous," Niall admires Harry's vulnerable look. "You have no idea what it does to me to see you like that—lips swollen scarlet, lustrous eyes, fuck Harry," he breathes out, wiping the saliva off Harry's bottom lip.  
  
"Niall," Harry whimpers, looking as a puppy in the way he looks at Niall.  
  
He brings Harry back to suck on him, getting closer and closer as heat builds up his spine. Harry's body is bent, but his arse is displayed up in the hair when his fingers stroke Niall and he swallows at the tip. And if that's not enough he hollows his cheeks and begins to suck harder. The will to start thrusting is empowering Niall and without gagging Harry takes it like a champ. It may be one of those things Niall loves the most in Harry.  
  
He releases all over Harry's face and Harry never grimaces with disgust, but he mops it with his thumb and cramming it into his mouth, tauntingly cleaning himself, knowing Niall is watching him intently.  
  
"Bastard," Niall snarls. Harry just smirks mischievously.  
  
Niall shoves Harry into the mattress, head falling onto the cushion. Harry's cock is stiff, pulsing in the engulfing walls of Niall's big hand. He kisses on Harry's neck and nibbles at his earlobe, dragging out the skin with his teeth.  
  
Harry moans with a twist of Niall's wrist and comes when he sucks on his nipple. Niall rubs his palm on the spot next to him; having no will power to go and wash his hand. He's exhausted.  
  
"Hand me a cigarette," he rambles in Harry's ear, extending his hand slightly as Harry turns and hauls out a narrow cigarette, giving it to Niall who puts its butt between his lips, waiting for Harry to grab the matchbox as well.  
  
He turns back around, lighting the matcher and propping on one elbow, facing Niall and lighting the cigarette; fumes filling up the air of the room. Niall inhales, steadying on one elbow as well, letting the smoke out and against Harry's face. Harry takes the smoke into his lungs and robs the cigarette away from Niall's possession, flopping on his back and attaching the cigarette to his mouth.  
  
The position he lies in gives Niall an idea. One of his legs is curled up in the hair as the other is numb on the mattress. He's lying lopsided, staring at the ceiling.  
  
"Don't move," instructs Niall, jumping out of bed and exiting the room.  
  
He comes back with a paper and a pencil in hand, wearing the glasses he uses while painting.  
  
"You look smart," Harry teases when Niall gets on the bed again, leaning against the small wall.  
  
When he's curious to what Niall is doing he sits up, but only to get a grouse from Niall's direction. "I told you not to move. Go back to your previous position,"  
  
"Why?" Harry asks but obeys Niall's words.  
  
"You'll see." Is all Niall gives him when Harry's back to smoking the rest of the cigarette and Niall begins to draw Harry as quick as he can. He needs to be at home in thirty minutes.   
  
******  
  
Mia's uprooting roots in the garden when Niall walks in the pathway that leads to their house. He stops in his track and threads his fingers through her quite dirty hair, kissing the crown of her head as a greeting.  
   
"Where have you been?" she snaps her head to look at Niall who's standing above her.  
  
He smelled like smoke and alcohol.    
  
"Had a drink with me mates," he lies easily. He'd been practicing in the last two months.  
  
"You disappear a lot recently," Mia whines, pouting a little and keeps pulling the roots, placing it onto the pile she had made of them.  
  
"I'm a little stressed from the wedding, s'all. Did you try on the gown?" he shows interest, walking up the stairs and opens the door.  
  
"Yeah, I liked it a lot. It's so pretty Niall." She says, glowing from joy when she talks about her dress. He smiles at her genuinely.  
  
He observes at her, watching her working on fixing the flowers back to their space, mudding it up again. "You look pale, love," He babbles, getting slightly alarmed.  
  
"I know, but it's nothing. Only threw up a bit."  
  
"That's not nothin', Mia," Niall scolds.  
  
"I'm fine." She argues.  
  
"You want me to make you some ginger tea?" he tries, still standing by the frame of the entrance door.  
  
She nods. "I'd like that."  
  
He sighs, telling her before he fades inside the house, "I'll call you inside."  
  
******  
  
"In a week," Mia chirps when she wakes up from the spot next to Niall, kissing him on the lips to wake him up.  
  
Niall groans against her mouth but she only laughs. "What in a week?"  
  
"Our wedding, silly."  
  
As she walks out of bed Niall sees her getting a little bit dizzy, and before he utters a word, asking her if she's okay, she runs into the bathroom, drops on her knees and vomits her guts out into the toilet.  
  
Niall immediately sits up in panic. "Mia, are you okay?" he rushes his words out.  
  
She had managed to hide her morning nauseas from him for two months. She tried to hide it as best as she could and did it all vaguely. Only her mother knew. When Niall asked if she felt good she'd answered it's probably just a passing flu or telling him she ate something bad, getting away with the truth.  
  
He haven't seen Harry in ten days and he supposed he will see him a week only after the wedding. But as of right now, it wasn't on his mind even for a bit as he tried to think what to do.  
  
She washes her mouth and face, drying it with a towel and steps out of the bathrooms with her hand over her abdomen.  
  
"What is happening to you Mia," he mumbles at her, voice low, full off compassion and worry.  
  
She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, deciding on telling the truth now. "I… I wanted to tell you just after the wedding, to surprise you, yeah? But I can't hold it in anymore."  
  
"Mia, what?" He sounds baffled, eyes wide in fear, thinking the worst of things.  
  
"I'm pregnant," she blurts, looking at him with hopeful eyes.  
  
He remains silent for a bit. Looking to his side and staring at a certain spot, thinking.  
  
"W-What," she panics herself. "Aren't you happy?"  
  
"No, I'm happy. I'm quite shocked, but happy." As he thinks of it, of the good news that they're gonna have a bay, he smiles to himself and shakes his head in disbelief. He always wanted kids.  
  
But then he remembers Harry, what he has with him, and a feeling he can't describe dawns on him.  
  
******  
  
"Mate, you're getting married today, cheer up!" Liam pats his back, watching him knotting his bow around his neck with a somewhat downed expression.  
  
"Belt it," he groans at his best friend, fumbling with the black strings. And when he fails to pull it off well he cusses out in frustration and agony.  
  
Liam reaches out to help him, fixing the bow within seconds. "What?"  
  
He slaps gently over Niall's cheek twice, handing him over the perfume so he could spray it on himself.  
  
"I'm just nervous, I reckon." He babbles, adding the black blazer on top of his blouse, straightening the lapels before he takes on last glance at his fancy attire. Takes a look at his perfect-styled hair, the odor of the perfume he put on fills the room and glues to the fabric of his suit.  
  
"You ready, groom-boy?" Liam questions for the last time before Niall nods, breathing in deeply as he thinks what will happen next with the situation he created with Harry after the wedding.  
  
He's certain it won't be easy.  
  
******  
  
The night after they return from their vacation they've been in a week, Niall ends up in his studio again.  
  
He tried to be there fully with Mia and enjoy with her, he really did. But all his mind wondered about is how Harry's doing and if he's okay. If he was with another in the time they haven't seen each other.  
  
Meanwhile, Mia had grown a little belly. It's barely visible but she's in her fourth month of pregnancy. Her mood swings came and went; once she craves for food and then she whines at how she will be fat after she gives birth to the baby. Sometimes she wants Niall to do with her whatever he wants but sometimes she's being cold as ice and ignores everything he says to her, dwelling in the new book she started reading a while ago.  
  
It frustrates him even more, and when he sees Harry in the bed, already naked and waiting for him, he smiles so big his cheeks hurt.  
  
Harry jumps into his arms and they never hesitate to kiss. It's sloppy and wet, and messy, but they really couldn't care less. They fall on the bed and Harry begins to undress Niall.  
  
"I've missed you so much baby," he murmurs into the kiss, tears he didn't notice fell down his cheek and stung the skin. It's emotional, Niall despises being emotional. " 've been thinking about you a lot."  
  
"Three weeks Niall," Harry tries to take air into his lungs but he feels like he can't. He's breathless and overwhelmed, noticing that little stubble Niall haven't shaved, sweeping his thumb over the rough skin.   
  
"I know, but I couldn't see you, I'm sorry."  
  
"You could," he reasons coldly, looking at Niall with deer green eyes.  
  
"Harry… quit it, now would ya? Let me enjoy you, make up to the lost time." Niall takes off the last layer of clothes left on him, leaning down on Harry again, rubbing his neck and kissing on its other side, mumbling into Harry's skin, "Almost forgot how beautiful you are,"  
  
He now grinds on Harry, both desperate for each other's touch. Harry kisses him again before turning them around, straddling his lap as he feels how hard he is. He slowly lowers himself down, supporting himself by holding onto Niall shoulders. But before he could go down any further Niall grasps his hips tightly to keep him still.  
  
"It'll hurt you like that," he warns, blue eyes piercing into Harry's.  
  
"What, you think I didn't prepare?" Harry smirks slyly.  
  
"Holy shit," hisses Niall, slumping his head onto Harry's chest, laughing. "You'd drive me fucking insane, kid."  
  
"Haven't I already?" Harry smarts, and Niall grunts.  
  
"Shut your bloody mouth."  
  
Niall helps Harry to lower down his length, mouth ajar, groaning with the process. Niall supports himself with one hand on the mattress, the other onto Harry's arse cheeks. "Missed you," Harry stutters, voice trembling as his body.  
  
"Show me," Niall provokes breathlessly.  
  
He kisses Niall, hard. The blond attempts to sneak his tongue in between the seam of Harry's mouth, eventually succeeding as their mouths stretch wider and Harry moans, beginning to roll his hips.  
  
Harry keeps a stable rhythm; slow and hard. To savor every second of this time they reunited. It's a cliché, he knows that.  
  
The first time he heard Niall's got a fiancée he must admit he felt weird. Niall was handsome, mature, he was a great artist and reserved in a way that intrigued Harry. The fact that he had someone else never really stopped him from trying to provoke him and see, even if it was minor hints, how he accomplishes his little plot.  
  
He was with married men before. This world wasn't new to him. He was charming, he was aware of its power on people. The fact that he was young gave the men he slept with another sensation of something new. Most of them were never with a lad.  
  
But with Niall, Niall was different. What he felt for him wasn't the familiar numb feeling he constantly had. With Niall he felt something else. With Niall it was real; not on purpose to piss his step-mother off. It was for him and only himself.  And he fucking loved that.  
  
  
"Yes, oh God—feels so good," Harry moans loudly, bouncing up and down Niall's cock. His head thrown backwards, eyes shut and mouth open, feeling Niall's mouth marking up his throat.  
  
"Yes baby?" the older grunts, "you like that? Riding my cock?" He mutters into the skin. When Harry retorts with another echoing moan, Niall breathes out heavily at the sound. "You sound so fucking erotic,"  
  
Niall holds onto Harry's lower back, digging his nails into the flesh there, driving Harry faster. Harry's forehead falls forward, onto Niall's own, heavy respiration fanning over their faces. Harry maneuvers his hand to cup Niall's sharp jaw as he stares into his mesmerizing blue eyes, little whimpers escaping from his mouth and into the air of the room.  
  
He grabs his pulsing cock into his fist and starts stroking himself, working on reaching the edge. It hurts how stiff he is, groaning on Niall's face with no air left inside his lungs, panting. He moves his hand on the shaft, thumb teasing the head as he keeps riding on Niall's cock. He has an attempt to kiss Niall, but all they both manage to do is pant on each other with no more strength.  
  
 Harry comes with a loud groan of Niall's name, come covering his belly.  
  
But Niall ignores that when he leans onto the mattress; each of his strong hands grasping on Harry's love-handles as Harry steadies his palms over Niall's chest. He balances his feet on the bed and thrusts hard and sharp into Harry. He's vigorous and inpatient as he works himself through his orgasm. His brows knitted and he breathes out, slamming into Harry with even more strength now and coming inside of him; slumps his head back.  
  
Still breathless, Harry lifts Niall back to a sitting position as he connects their lips in a longing, prolong kiss. When they break apart Harry looks anticipating on Niall.  
  
"I love you," he blurts, and when he realizes what he said it only pushes him forward to speak even more, pour his heart out to the older. "Take me away Niall, take me to Paris. Take me to America, New-York, anywhere with you. Even for merely three days."  
  
There wasn't any denying to the lust in Harry's tone. Niall could hear it from miles away. But he couldn't acknowledge Harry's feeling, swallowing the lump that formed in the middle of his throat down.  
  
"Mia's pregnant, Harry." He admits, watching how Harry's face crumble down, just as fast as the smile that appeared on his face when he saw Niall for the first time in three weeks.  
  
Harry paralyzes, stopping to stroke Niall's cheek, hands dropping down along with his body, covering it with the blanket as Niall stares at him blankly.  
  
"What?" he mumbles. Very confused from what Niall had told him though it was as clear as the sun. _Mia was pregnant. Niall's having a baby._  
  
"You heard me," Niall says, "Four months."  
  
"Since when you're aware of that?" Harry's throat feels dry, he wants to drink something, but all he can now is to swallow his spit.  
  
"She told me only a week before the weeding. She wanted it to be a surprise," Niall explains.  
  
"Well, it is indeed a surprise." Harry runs his fingers through his long hair, scratching his head thoughtfully.  
  
Niall pinches the bridge of his nose uneasily. "By the look on your face I can read you're not happy for me," Niall's tone gets louder.  
  
Harry frowns at the accusation, even though it was completely accurate.  
  
"I am happy for you!" Harry argues back, still looking distraught and disheveled.  
  
"No you're not. I'm not an imbecile Harry. You forgot how much I learned of you in the past few months." Niall stands up now, agitated as he searches for his trousers, pulling them back on. "I have no idea why I even got into this with you," he shakes his head, grabbing his discarded blouse, shrugging it on again. "I had the beautiful, joyous, perfect fucking life I always wanted, and you bloody thing, ruined it."  
  
He buttons his shirt up rapidly when Harry resents. "Excuse me? So now it's my fault?" the sheet that covered his body falls back down on the bed as Harry rises up on his knees. "You never said enough, you never said 'stop'. Because you wanted this, you wanted to be with me. You _love_ being with me, you love fucking me, and you love that all of this is a one big fucking secret. If you say different you're a liar, _you forgot how much I learned of you in the past few months."_  
  
"I'm not a liar," Niall sits with the back to Harry, putting his socks on.  
  
"You cheat on your pregnant wife. With a man," Accuses Harry into Niall's ear.  
  
Niall backs away, lacing up his shoes, seething with anger. "You're no man Harry, just a bloody provocative little punk."  
  
He rises on his feet, ruffling his hair and striding towards the door indignantly.  
  
"I hate you!" Harry screams. "I _hate_ you so fucking much!" his heart's racing in his ribcage as he says the words he never really meant to say out loud. He feels like his levee of tears is about to break.  
  
Niall shakes his head once he goes through the slot of the iron door. "I wish to believe you." He whispers, but enough so Harry could hear.  
  
It's may be over now. All the things they had are gone.  
  
******  
  
Niall stares enraged at the portrait he hung on the wall instead of the plain painting of the flowers. It looks exactly like him, he hates that.  
  
What they've said, the words they traded barely an hour ago stings his insides. Harry hollered at him that he hates him minutes after he admitted he loves him. Niall felt like he couldn’t do this anymore. Maybe what had occurred is an opportunity for him to forget and keep to exist in the steady path of dull, predictable life.  
  
He takes a step forward, brushing the heel of his forefinger over the smooth canvas, slamming his head against it, laughing a cruel laugh. "Fuck you," he breathes, talking to the painting. "Fucking fuck you,"  
  
He bangs his fist into the canvas as he sobs silently, laughing absurdly all together.  
He keeps rambling 'fuck you' in a repetitive, almost manically way, taking the portrait off the wall and holding it so tight the canvas could've get broken somehow.  
  
He lifts a fist, gazing down at the painting he holds in his hand, pointing it down and almost smashing it down on the canvas as a voice talks in his head, telling him not to do so. That stops him. This and the faint knock on the door.  
  
"Niall," Mia calls, voice muffled from behind the door. "May I come in?"  
  
"Shit!" Niall hisses, shoving the portrait in between other works as fast as he could manage as half of it falls. But he fix it back and runs to sit on his chair, opening a drawer and taking out his art book.  
  
"Yes," he calls so Mia could hear him. She twists the knob and the door cracks open, Mia enters in.  
  
His leg bounces up and down anxiously with his hand holding tight on his thigh as he pretends to paint something on the blank page. Mia comes behind him and slides her hand back and forth on his chest, tipping her head down to see what he's drawing.  
  
"All right?" she asks in a small voice, her other hand resting on her swelled belly.  
  
He looks at her, still uncomfortable, trying to get over himself. "Yeah, all right," he mumbles.  
  
"Are you sure,"    
  
"Yeah why?" Niall frowns.  
  
"Nothing,"  
  
There's a moment of silence and Niall wiggles the pencil between his fingers nervously, rubbing his hand over his mouth with the process.  
  
"What do you think of Dolores, if it's a girl or Ernest if a boy?" Mia abruptly twits.  
  
Niall grimaces, still unfocused and slightly troubled. "They both sound too heavy," he judges cautiously. "Besides, I'm not gonna name my son Ernie,"  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"I don't know, Mia, okay? I'm not focused, and I certainly don't wanna talk about baby names right now. I'm sorry." He bursts, sabotages Mia's enthusiasm and she backs away, storming out of the office, leaving him alone in the quiet, tensed room.  
  
******  
  
One day, when Niall had too much pints and he feels dazed, he stumbles into the house laughing from nothing.  
  
A potent emotion of longing to Harry sunk upon him; and instead of resenting and thinking about him constantly he drove to the pub and drowned his feelings into the drinks.  
  
From an odd reason he couldn't get him out of his head. It has been seven months since then. They haven't seen each other once.  
  
When his son was born he was the happiest man on earth. He held the tot in his strong arms and kissed his bald head, looking straight into his blue eyes. He had _his_ eyes. They named him Addison-Benedict after Mia's father. Two names because he seemed to Niall as Addison and Mia protested about Benedict, so they compromised on both of the names.  
  
The little man was two months old now. He barely did anything; only slept, cried, ate and pooped. Niall had to get used to the new body in the house.  
  
Mia popped out from the kitchen with the baby in her arms, looking at Niall as if he was a ghost. He most certainly looked like one. Niall kept laughing as he trudged towards his wife and kid, kissing Addison on the forehead. "Hello to my son," he chuckled, looking down on the confused baby.  
  
Then he lifted his head up, meeting Mia's piercing gaze. "And of course, my beautiful wife," Niall exclaims, placing his hand on Mia's cheek and bringing her temple against his chapped lips, kissing the spot hard as he squeezes her.  
  
He was drunk and smelled from strong liquor, eyes bloodshot, black circles around his eyes. He walks away from them and climbs up the stairs, tripping over his own feet but manages to grasp the banister in the last minute before he falls. He laughs dryly again.  
  
"I'll…I'll be upstairs," Niall slurs his words out, pointing to his side with a wonky hand.  
  
Mia had never seen him in this kind of state before. She was shocked and confused, but mostly disappointed. Niall haven't been himself lately.  
  
She rests the baby in his bed, taking a last glance at him to check that he's okay and rushes out the room, heading upstairs.  
  
Niall is lying on the bed when she pads into the room silently. She gets onto the bed cautiously, checking if he's asleep and gets slightly startled when he grabs her wrist.  
  
"C'mere," he mutters sleepily, pulling her closer to him.  
  
It was only midday. Niall never drinks during the day. He's no drunk.  
  
He rubs his palm over her cheek, looking up at her as she stands on her knees in front of him with concerned eyes. "Look how beautiful you are. God only knows why I did this to you."  
  
He takes a piece of blond hair and tucks it behind her ear. Her expression looks so confused, even more now when he uttered these words out.  
  
"Did what Niall?" she inquires, voice sounding stiff.  
  
Niall's hand slump on the mattress and he only snickers before his eyes shut close.  
  
******  
  
The streets are busy when Niall and Mia stride through the city with Addison-Benedict in his pram. March's spring air blows their faces and different odors are filling their noses. A panhandler was sprawled against a brick wall next to a shop of watches they passed by. Niall fumbled in his trousers' pocket and pulled out the two quid he found, distributors it into the plastic cup he holds.  
  
The toddler start crying and Mia stops the pram in the middle of a swaying crowded sidewalk. Niall props down bends down in a squat position, stuffing the pacifier into his mouth but he doesn't take it and throws it out. He tries now the blanket in his hand and Mia attempts to calm him down with words.  
  
After another failing attempt Mia grumbles, "Stop shoving stuff on him!"  
  
Niall snaps his head up, brows furrowed. "I'm trying to help him." He sounds defensive, standing back up on his feet.  
  
As Mia gives him a stern look, a familiar voice calls from behind Niall.  
  
"Niall, is that you?" the voice utters uncertainly.  
  
When Niall turns on his heel he feels as if his mind went blank. "Harry?" he breathes out, his eyes are squinting as he pushes his right hand into his pockets.  
  
In a way, Harry looks more mature now. He's the same height as he was when they saw each other last; he wears a crisp white blouse and a stack of papers is clutched to his chest.  
  
"You know him?" Mia chimes in, looking at the pair of them.  
  
Harry's eyes are wide and he is slightly blushing when he sees Niall. He's a father now.  
"Yeah," Niall swallows. "Harry, this is Mia, Mia, this is Harry… a friend." Niall went for it as he introduced between the two. Something he never told he would do.  
  
"Nice to meet you," Harry babbles and reaches his hand out for Mia to shake. She takes it tentatively.  
  
"Nice to meet you, too,"

Seconds of awkward silence are passing over them until Niall tries to break it in a nervous tone. "So you started sketching, too?" he asks, referring to the stack Harry holds.  
  
Harry looks down at it briefly. "Write," he corrects. He takes a bold glance over the pram and his eyes catch the most beautiful baby he's ever seen. He bends down, taking the baby's small hand in his big one. "And who is this?" he asks in a childish, gasping tone when he examines the baby.  
  
"Addison, Addison-Benedict," Niall retorts, voice rushed and shaky.  
  
"Hi Addison-Benedict," Harry laughs as his eyes shine when he looks at the baby. The baby giggles at him and he smiles wider, cheeks deepening into dimples. "He's got your eyes." Harry says admiringly, flicking his gaze away from the baby only for seconds so he could look at Niall.  
  
Niall takes a big, deep breath when he grasps Harry's compliment. He presses his lips together anxiously when Harry's stare lingers and the same emotion he always had around Niall appears on his readable face. Niall thanks God he knows how to hide his own emotions most of the time.

Harry goes back to his height when he finishes admiring the baby, and Niall. "So, I guess I'll go now," he stutters, looking bewildered at the couple in front of him.  
  
"Yeah," Niall says lowly, looking at his son instead of Harry.  
  
"Give me a ring, sometime, go for drinks."  Harry calls once he passes by Niall.  
  
Niall rotates halfway around, inhaling as he gives a stern look at Harry but the younger just shrugs and fades into the crowd of people.  
  
Mia watches him, how wavering and shaken he looks. "Who was he?" she investigates.  
  
"Just someone I know."  
  
******  
  
"I cheated on you," Niall blurts three days later.  
  
He had been hashing out things in his head, debating whether he should take the burden off his shoulder and just tell Mia for a long time now. The encounter with Harry made him get to this decision. It was tough, but he finally made up his mind. He's got another person to take care of now, besides himself and Mia.  
  
Mia looks thunderstruck. Of course she is. She backs away as Niall casts the words on her, securing Addison closer into her. "How long," she asks in a trembling voice, cannot believe what her husband had just confessed in doing.  
  
Niall closes his eyes, breathing in. "A few months," he lets out. "But it stopped a week after the wedding. I didn't see-"  
  
"A few months?" she shuts him down. "Stopped a week after the wedding? How dare you?!" She cries out, lowering Addison down onto the floor. Tears sting her powdered cheek; make-up getting ruined as she looks at Niall in disbelief. "Was it some slag from your bloody art class? That's why you were 'busy'? Busy fucking her?"  
  
He sees how she tries to hold herself, restrain her feelings but can't help it. He betrayed her.  
  
Niall gulps rather hard, feeling as if he can't say any more words, and he can't even start to imagine how Mia must feel. "It… it wasn't a lass." He stutters out, cupping his face with his palm, thinking how stupid he is for doing this to her once again, even if it was exciting for him.  
  
"So what was it, a bloody cow? Because I do not understand,"  
  
"I need to sit," he mutters, sitting down on the sofa distressed and worked up.  
  
"You need to sit?" She laughs mercilessly. He's being selfish, he can't even realize that right now with all the thoughts that racing through his messy mind.  
  
She keeps hollering at him, discarding viscous words to the air. He cusses himself and hitches his palm against his closed eyes, trying to black out, get away to someplace else and stop hearing her accusing words.  
  
"I had an affair with a man, okay, happy now?!" Niall shouts frustratingly as he gets up on his feet with a sharp move, stooping over Mia with a disgruntled and irked up face, dark eyes with no emotion glaring down at her.  
  
His respirations are harsh and unsteady. "I've beaten myself up like a fucking deranged person on this because _I loved you_! I still _love you_ , but what it gave me? What it made me feel like—like I'm on top of a high building touching the fucking clouds—that, that you never gave me, my life is dull Mia, _our_ lives are dull, some bit of thrill never killed anyone."  
  
"You don't hear yourself! You selfish bastard! Listen to yourself. Listen to what you're saying, I feel as if I don't know you anymore."  
  
"Maybe you don't." Niall points out.  
  
The baby starts crying now and Mia flicks her head, bending down to pick him up.  
  
"You loved him?" Her voice is more calm now but still trembling and distraught. She isn't even looking at him as she picks up one of Addison's toys and hands it to him.  
  
Niall inhales air he lost while screaming his everything out, trying to collect any kind of sense again. "I'm afraid I still do," he whispers, the familiar guilt winding him up completely from the inside.

  
She wipes her tears, still not willing to look at the man she once loved, trusted in, cared about. She presses her lips together before she licks them and takes a breath.  
  
"It's the guy on the portrait you hung on your wall, the one we encountered in the other day?"  
  
"What?" Niall's heart pounds heavily inside his chest and threatening to explode when he hears Mia.  
  
"I clean up your office, painting room, whatever you call it. I saw it when I batted off the dust." It's beyond belief how fast she calmed herself, at least from the outside. Niall can guess there's a storm raging inside of her. How her guts must twist as if it was a rollercoaster.  
  
"Mia…" Niall's voice decays, staring at her as she turned slightly to try and look back at him.

"Him or not," she loses her patience, hopping the baby who is still crying up and down. When Niall never answers she takes it as positive. "I want you to go upstairs and pack your things, take everything and get out of my and my son's face, now!"  
  
Niall nods, wiping his face and heads to pack his belongings.  
  
He tows out a grimy, dusty old suitcase and tosses it on the bed angrily.  
  
"Fuck!" he screams, looking at the object in front of him and trying to comprehend everything that's happened.  
  
******  
  
Harry's sitting by his desk, writing meaningless words on a sheet when Lola calls his name.  
  
"Harry, someone's here for you. Come down, you bloody brat!" She screams from down the stairs.  
  
Harry frowns; because if it was one of his friends they were already on their way up to his room. So he puts his dip-pen down and rushes down the stairs rapidly in his pajamas.  
  
He almost stumbles when he reaches the door, getting a hold of the door frame. Lola tells him to be careful, still standing there next to him in the door frame.  
  
He's struck when he sees Niall standing patiently so far away from the actual door. Without thinking he opens with a speed run towards him, jumping on the older and wrapping his legs around Niall's waist as he holds him in his strong, familiar arms.  
  
He nuzzles his head in the crook of his neck as Niall inhales his sweet scent, fingers hot on his back's skin. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, cupping Niall's face and breathing in before he do the move and kisses him.  
  
When Niall disconnects his lips from Harry's and ducks his head down, letting Harry fall down to the ground on his bare feet.  
  
"I… it was an instinct." Harry is apologizing Niall for kissing him and jumping on him as keenly as he did, even apologizing of doing it all though he really doesn't want to.  
  
"It's okay Harry," Promises Niall, chuckling as he's pushing a curl that landed on Harry's eyes away, aiming to brush his fingers on his still shocked face but stopping himself before he does so and drops his hand to the side with a sigh.  
  
"Why are you here?" Harry breathes out, curious to why Niall showed up at his house.  
  
Niall swallows, picking his head up and looking at Harry's green eyes. They still stand close enough to kiss again.  
  
"I told her," Niall tells Harry tentatively, searching for Harry's reaction.  
  
"Niall," Harry stares at him with his sorry eyes, having the courage to stroke his clothed chest briefly.  
  
"She tossed me out, put me stuff at the studio. Reckon I'd stay there for a while."  
  
Harry just kissed him; sensing again the longing feeling for Niall's touch, the feel of his arms on him and their lips connected. It's passionate and long, and very much longing.  
  
Harry thought Niall broke his heart, which he basically did, but now it was worth every sorrow.  
  
Niall was head over heels. He never thought he'd fall in love with someone else besides Mia, certainly not a bloke, a young one. But life surprised him and now he finds himself kissing the younger in the middle of the street, right in front of his staircase.  
  
He tugs Harry to a better place, leaning his back against the house's wall where all the flowers are blooming at. They kissed on the lips again, and Niall turns to pepper open-mouthed kisses on Harry's neck and Harry moans. "Fucking missed this sound," growls Niall, making Harry whimper further.  
  
Harry threads his fingers through Niall's hair, tugging when his teeth graze on a sensitive spot.  
  
"What do you think about Paris?" Niall asks out of the blue.  
  
Harry backs away, having to look at him and know if he's serious. "What?"  
  
"New York then?"  
  
Niall looks deadly honest and genuine. Harry can't restrain his smile.  
  
"Are you serious?" Harry presses when he gets Niall's hint.  
  
"More than I've ever been."   

**Author's Note:**

> harrvy on tumblr. (i have loads of errors i'm fixing them)


End file.
